Showstoppers
by RobotsMakeBetterLovers
Summary: Bella is a dancer, hardened by life and haunted by the past. When her home is invaded by the same people who killed her father, she meets a Jedi who teaches her to change the world... Qui-Gon/Original Character; Reviews needed!
1. Jam

**A/N: Anything and anyone that you recognize belongs to Lucasfilm, Lucasarts, whatever it's called. The rest of it is mine.**

**Don't worry. You ARE reading a Star Wars story. This first chapter is an expositional thing, and you won't see much that you recognize. Don't let it bother you.**

I take a long drag on my cigarette and glance at the slip of paper on the bar.

"Is it Wednesday already, Hyjo?"

Hyjo turns around, his bushy eyebrow rising over his eyes. He sees what I'm looking at and chuckles.

"It certainly is, Bellabell, and I can feel it this week. Look at those numbers. No way I can go wrong with numbers like those. Ain't nobody got numbers like those I got." He puts down the glass he was wiping and picks up the paper, shaking his head with a huge smile on his face.

Poor bastard really thinks he has a chance. No one wins the goddamn lottery. Ever. Not even if you buy a LottoKing ticket every. Single. Week.

If anyone deserves to win the lottery, however, it would definitely be Hyjo. I wouldn't necessarily call him a "gentle" giant, but he's certainly well-meaning and crudely benign, you could say. He's helped me out of a couple tight spots. I would do anything for that guy.

I finish my cigarette and blot it out in an ashtray that used to be transparent, hundreds of cigarettes ago.

"I'm up, buddy. Be back in a few." He nods at my farewell and I leave him, heading for the stage. As I walk I am careful to make my ass and chest as apparent as possible. What can I say. I get paid to be well-endowed.

It's like this: I came to Showstoppers five years ago, sixteen and in a world of shit. Hyjo had me serving drinks and wiping glasses for a while, but eventually I started dancing. Lucky break for me. That's where all the money is.

Showstoppers isn't a strip club, if I may make the distinction. You don't see anybody naked here. Hyjo likes to say that the difference between Showstoppers and a strip club is respect. He won't make us strip because he respects us. That's what he says. He's a really soft kind of guy, as you can see.

My last dance ends, so I head back to the dressing room. My feet hurt like hell. I throw my shoes into my locker and grab my bag, turning around as I unzip the top. I walk straight into someone, and look up to apologize. I see who it is, and the word "sorry" gets lost somewhere. Instead.

"Oh, fuck no." He raises his eyebrows. "What are you doing here, Jam?" I walk past Jam to the counter and start piling my clothes onto it.

Jam is the last person I want to see. Not that it's been a bad night or anything. There is never a time when I want to see Jam. Jam is among the vilest and most despicable human beings I have ever met, and on Sorenno that's saying a hell of a lot.

"I don't want to see you either, Bella, so I'm gonna make this quick," he said, leaning on the counter next to me. I look at him and sigh.

"Please do."

"They found the body."

I feel my face harden instinctively. I'm not going to let him see my fear. Even being a full foot shorter than him, I'm not going to back down to him.

"That has nothing to do with me."

His lip curls and he clenches his jaw. "Look, bitch."

"Show some respect: you're on my turf," I snap, putting my hand into my duffel bag.

"This has everything to do with you. You're the only one who has nothing to lose by talking to the cops. Why do you think I came all the way to Alton? I'm gonna make sure that pretty little red mouth of yours stays shut, Bella." He pulls a long, thin knife from his waistband and lightly brushes the blade against my cheek.

Oh. Hell no.

He now has a Cromexin 501 revolver resting neatly against the bridge of his nose. Extremely old-fashioned, yes, but powerful enough to bring down a fucking Wookiie. I smile sweetly as his eyes cross to look at the gun.

"Get your knife off my face. Get out of my bar. Never speak to me again. I have pretended that you didn't exist for five happy years, and I'm not going to start now." He replaces the knife in his waistband and steps back.

"I'm not done with you, baby. Next time I'll bring something for that gun of yours to think about." He leaves. Cocky bastard.

But as soon as I hear the door close, I gasp for breath. I do not want to deal with Jam. If he has a problem with me, I'm fucked.

**Please review! I have at least thirty more chapters coming, this is just the prologue, really.**


	2. Past

It's been a couple nights since Jam came by to mess with me, and so far nothing has happened. I pretend to myself that this means he'll leave me alone.

Right now I'm sweet-talking my seventh-grade science teacher. I didn't realize who it was before I sat down, or I definitely would have skipped him. Luckily, he hasn't recognized me. Thank God.

"How about I buy you a drink, baby?" he says, pointing at the bar. I stop myself from sniffing irritably and give him a theatrical smile and eyelash flutter.

"I don't drink." He laughs.

"You work at a bar and you don't drink?"

"Working at a bar, someone sees all the ways in which drinking is a bad idea. I'll pass. You can do my drinking for me." He raises his glass appreciatively.

"Fair enough." He drains his glass, and I look through the amber liquid at the wavy and distorted bar beyond him. I can see Hyjo walking away after mixing an unrecognizable drink for a guy with a busty blonde babe on his lap. As my teacher lowers his glass, I recognize the babe as Sissy, my best friend. I recognize the drink as a cherry Hymaljjoo. And I can also recognize that she looks so busty because she's leaning back, away from the guy. Trying to get away. I frown.

Sissy tries to push him away and he grabs her wrists, pulling her closer to him. She turns away from the kiss and he hits her. That's enough.

"Excuse me, but I have some business to take care of." I jump off my teacher's lap despite his noises of complaint and head to the bar. Nobody fucks with Sissy. Especially not some skinhead piece of work who looks like he burned ghiflies with a magnifying glass when he was little. I'm gonna get this one good.

"Let her go," I say smoothly, throwing a sheet of my red hair behind my shoulder. "She doesn't want you." He shoves Sissy off of his lap and she almost hits the floor, catching herself on a barstool. I love that kid, but she's weak. Not a good trait for an exotic dancer.

He doesn't stand up. Just narrows his eyes at me. It's obvious that he doesn't consider me a threat, and I almost laugh.

"Here baby, I'll show you what kind of a man that bitch was turning down. I could've given her the ride of a lifetime." I flick my eyebrows at him.

"I'm a little busy right now. You see, I've got an issue. This issue is that you have fucked with the wrong girl. Sissy here isn't gonna do much to you personally, but I'm a different case. I am not gonna sit back and see anybody treat her like she isn't the best piece of ass that's ever looked twice at them. Because I know why you're here. You're here because you're too much of an asshole to get someone to sit still long enough for you. You have to pay for your pleasure because no one would touch you with a ten-foot pole unless you gave them a fuck-ton of money."

He hits me. Just what I was waiting for.

I let the momentum carry me back, give me energy for the rebound and then I snap back, nailing him in the mouth. Spit flies from his puckered lips. Heh heh. That would be really fucking funny to see slowed down. He looks back up at me, astonished. Touches the blood running down his chin. And then he gets pissed, which scares me a little.

So I pick up a barstool and slap him with it, which tells him to back the fuck off. He leaves. I laugh.

"Thanks, Bella." I look down at Sissy. She isn't looking at me.

"Come on. Time for a smoke break." I take her under the armpits and stand her up, guiding her to the dressing room. We put on jackets and go out the back door, to the alley. I take two cigarettes out of my pack and one I stick between my lips, one I extend to Sissy.

"No thanks." I look up from the lighter I'm applying to my own cigarette.

"Hmm?"

"The doctor says I should quit, cause the smoke's no good for Sedvii. I hadn't thought of that before, so I feel kind of bad. What if he gets athsma or something?" I nod and put the cigarette back in the pack, sucking on my own.

"I'm sure he'll be okay, just quit and he'll be good." Sedvii is Sissy's little boy, and is quite possibly the cutest two-year-old anybody's ever heard of. Doesn't have a dad. Sissy gasps, suddenly.

"Bella, look! Jedi!" Sissy breathes, pointing down the alley and across the street. I look up quickly, and sure enough there are two long-robed figures standing outside the mechanic's shop. The taller one has a hand on the little one's shoulder and is talking seriously to him. His apprentice?

"They're so cool. I mean, with their lightsabers and all those cool flips and stuff they do. They really do that, don't they? I've never actually seen one fight, so."

"You're talking like a little kid, Sis," I laugh. They are pretty cool, though. "I wonder what they're doing here? Did something happen we don't know about?"

"Maybe the Republic asked them to help with the War," Sissy says, tilting her head to one side. "I don't know why they would be in Alton, though. Nothing's happened here yet." Yet being the key word, there.

"I hope so. I've always wondered why the Republic hasn't taken some initiative, sent in some Jedi. Enough people have already died, and." I stop myself too late, glancing fearfully at Sissy. That was the wrong thing to say. She has taken her eyes off the Jedi and is staring at the concrete, and frown worrying her eyebrows. Poor kid.

She's one of those cases where she fell in love in high school, met the perfect guy who loved her and would do anything for her. They promised to run off and get married as soon as she graduated.

And then Prince Charming is drafted into the army and is never seen again. His Princess is left at home with the baby that he didn't even know was coming when he left. Princess drops out of school and gets a job at Showstoppers, dancing to take care of her daddyless baby.

A single mother at nineteen.

Not that I haven't lost somebody to the War. I don't like thinking about him, though.

The Vasdyvin is a fierce military force that rose up about ten years back on the other side of the planet. Said that the Galactic Republic wasn't doing anything for the people of Sorenno. Said that there needed to be a change.

So they started killing people. Entirely without conscience, they've slowly spread across the planet, conquering countries with sadistic strength and sociopathic willpower. Countries and territories that haven't yet been touched by their influence sent "aid". "Aid" that didn't actually aid anything, obviously. My country hasn't been taken over, yet. Yet being the key word.

So, finally, it looks like the Republic has asked for the Jedi to come in and straighten things out with the Vasdyvin, if it's not too late. It might be.

Sorenno always has been a little backward, if you ask me.


	3. Daddy

We watch the Jedi for a while longer. They seem to be arguing about something.

Finally, one of them looks at his watch. Not his watch, actually, because a holographic figure is projected off of it and they listen to it speak before they walk down the road and out of sight.

"We should go back in," I say. Sissy hooks her arm in mine and nods, and we walk back into the dressing room, which should be empty because everyone should be working. Which, surprisingly, is full of people. All of them are silently watching something on the counter.

"…impossible to tell at this time what will become of our country. This has been happening all over the world, despite attempts by the Galactic Senate to slow the spread of this new regime. What began as a phenomenon exclusive to the Far West and the Huysma Coast has arrived. I will repeat, the President has been publicly executed in the People's Courtyard, where in the past he has been known to give public addresses. His final address has been given. President Vbiema is dead. The Vasdyvin have taken us."

It's the radio. The news. My hands feel clammy and I'm lightheaded. They're here.

All of the girls are talking, fearful. Terrified, even. Sissy pulls herself close to me.

"Bella? What does this mean? What's gonna happen to us now?" I shake my head. I have no idea. Someone stands up on the counter and raises her hands above our heads.

"Sssh, listen!" We all are immediately silent.

"…friends and family to listen to this, I repeat, we have received instructions from the new regime. Just in, instructions for all of you to return to your homes. All businesses are now closed until the new officials have been installed in your area. Once again, the Vasdyvin authorities are instructing you to please go home and stay inside until further instructions are given. They would like us to inform you that resistance will not be tolerated. I repeat. Resistance will not be tolerated."

I wake up late the next morning. How the hell could I sleep knowing that they were coming?

I get out of bed and scramble a couple eggs with peppers and onions. Add a cigarette, and it's a full balanced breakfast. I sit on my bed and watch them march into the city limits while I eat.

The first block of soldiers pass without incident; evenly spaced lines of steel grey uniforms snapping their feet against the pavement, they are an army general's dream come true. They are also the citizen's worst nightmare.

The second block approach just as old Ms. Netuli is leaning out the door to bring her cat in. I don't blame her; I sure as hell wouldn't want any sweet, innocent animal to be out in the street when the Vasdyvin show their ugly faces. But it was still a bad idea. She hesitates just a second too long.

A blaster is fired from the first line, and Ms. Netuli hits the sidewalk. She can see her husband for the first time in thirty years.

I drop my fork and cover my mouth, angry tears stinging my eyes. Not on my turf, not on my turf…. They've already taken so much away from me. So. Much.

My father was a composer. He was absolutely brilliant. When I was a little girl and I was upset about something he would write a little song for me, teach it to me. He was perfect. He was all I had.

When I was fourteen he went on a concert tour with an internationally renowned orchestra; he would be gone for six weeks, and I would be by myself. He didn't like this. He said I needed to protect myself. He bought me a gun and taught me how to use it: my Cromexin 501 revolver.

That was the last time I ever saw him. During the third week of his tour, he conducted a concert in the capital of Dvnebhs with both the royal family and the Prime Minister in attendance. I can remember combing his hair for him (he was always so messy) and listening to him rant and rave about how the royalty in Dvnebhs were some of his biggest fans. He was so very, very proud.

During the second movement of the "Symphony of My Love," the concert hall exploded. A bomb meant to wipe out the royal family of Dvnebhs was planted by the Vasdyvin. They succeeded. Dvnebhs is under their control to this day.

The second movement of the "Symphony of My Love" is based on a tune I wrote for him on his birthday when I was ten. It's called "Bella's Waltz."

After my father died I became an adult. Not that I was suddenly so mature and responsible or any shit like that; I mean that in my country the government has no time for orphans. The law says that you are legally independent when you turn sixteen or when your parents die. Whichever comes first. This really is a backwoods shit-hole of a planet, I'm telling you.

That's essentially how I fell in with Jam Mcgroiuucer in the first place. I was alone, had no money. I was fourteen, red-headed, freckled. Cute. And he was seventeen, hot, and had money. Rode a motorcycle. Cocky bastard.

I got with him for protection and stayed with him for two years, during which I started smoking. My dad would have killed me; he always loved my singing voice. Ruined by chain-smoking.

I get up from my bed and my abandoned breakfast and start to dress, pulling clothes from the cardboard box at the end of my bed. Showstoppers customers have always been cheap; I don't have any money for a goddamn dresser.

I close my curtains so that the soldiers can't see me naked. No way am I going to let those shit holes see me without clothes on. Yeah fucking right.


	4. Jedi

Sissy is buttoning up her shirt. She has to speak loudly to be heard over the pulsing of music in the bar and the roaring of a ship's engines as it lands nearby.

"Sedvii is so afraid of them. When I was taking him to his babysitter we passed one on the sidewalk and he started crying…. I don't know what's gonna happen, Bella, I just don't. And all I can think of is his daddy, off fighting them somewhere."

I look at her. Does she really, honestly think there is a chance in hell that her boyfriend is still alive? I choose not to ask her this question and instead focus my attention on zipping up the back of my skirt and fastening my belt. She keeps talking.

"I mean, Sed is growing up, you know? What are things gonna be like around here when he's older and trying to get along? Like."

"Sissy," I interrupt her. "He's two. I don't think you need to be worrying about his adulthood just yet. We've only just been taken over, and the Jedi are here. It's probably gonna get better pretty fast. Don't worry." She smiles.

"I guess you're right."

Sissy will believe anything, I swear.

Both of us put on our jackets and pick up our bags, ready to go home for the night. I open the door onto the alleyway and we step out. I already have a cigarette in my mouth, ready to be lit.

"Oh my god!" I look at Sissy, whose mouth is hanging open. She's pointing at the sky, and I follow the direction of her finger. The cigarette drops out of my mouth when I see it.

A patch of the clouds in the night sky is stained a dark, bloody red. It flickers as if lightning is passing through it. There is a clearing in the middle through which we can see the fierce, fiery battle raging above the clouds. We can't see the tiny star-fighters that must be present, but we do see the explosions created as they are destroyed by their enemy. The battle creates a dull, hollow thunder that makes the ground beneath my feet shudder.

"Are those Jedi, Bella?"

"Maybe." I tear my eyes from the spectacle above us and pick up my cigarette, looking around the alleyway. Empty except for us and a dumpster. "We should go home. The Vasdyvin don't like people to be hanging around after dark." I begin to walk and I hear Sissy follow me. I step level with the dumpster but stop dead before I pass it.

"What." Sissy begins, but I wave my hand behind me to shut her up. I point at the ground and she claps her hand over her mouth as she sees what I see.

Boots. Someone is laying on the ground just beyond the dumpster with only their boots visible. One of the boots has a tear just above the ankle, and the area around it is dirty, covered in – blood? I put my hand in my purse and put my hand gingerly on my revolver. Whoever it is probably won't give us a problem, but the cool metal gives me confidence. I step forward and lean over to look at the person on the ground.

"Oh my god. Sissy. Come here." Sissy sidles forward and peers around the dumpster.

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know, but that's not the point. Look at his clothes. Look at his belt." I take my hand off of my gun and step over him, kneeling down next to his head. Pulling a sheet of wavy hair off of his neck, I feel for a pulse. Alive.

"Bella! Is that a lightsaber?" I nod. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Is he alive? Please say he's alive."

"Yeah, he's alive, but he's out." I look around. "Sissy, if the Vasdyvin find him." We make eye contact, neither of us wanting to suggest what we both are thinking.

"My house is closer," she says. I nod and look back at the Jedi, realizing that getting him home will be extremely difficult.

"Sissy, he's huge. He's at least six feet tall, and his shoulders are like. I mean. He's enormous."

Sissy thinks for a moment.

"I have a wheelbarrow!" I stare at her.

"You're kidding, right? You really want to cart an unconscious Jedi home in a wheelbarrow?"

"What else are we going to do, Bella?" You've got to be fucking kidding me. Two people, at least one of whom is of average intelligence.

And the wheelbarrow really is the best we can come up with.

"Go get it. Hurry." Sissy turns and starts to run home. I look away from her receding back, directing my attention back to the Jedi.

His hair, longer than mine, is pulled back and away from his face, revealing a heavy brow, high cheekbones, and a huge nose. He's actually really hot.

Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, I pull his head into my lap and begin to look for more injuries. Not bad. A couple of gashes on his chest, nothing too deep, and a scrape across the bridge of his nose are the only obvious injuries. His breathing is even and slow, and his heartbeat is strong.

I hear running footsteps and look up to see Sissy round the corner, pushing the wheelbarrow in front of her. I sigh and hope to god that this works.

It takes a good bit of effort to get him into the wheelbarrow. Takes about five minutes. God, he's huge.

Once in the wheelbarrow, with his arms, legs, and head dangling out of the sides, I realize how ridiculously obvious it will be for us to be wheeling him down the road.

"Is there, like, a back way we can take to your house? So we aren't in the middle of the street?" Sissy stares at me. "The Jedi are fighting against the Vasdyvin. If they catch us with a Jedi they'll kill us. You realize this, right?" Sissy's eyes are wide, and something seems to strike home in her mind. She swallows.

"Yeah, I know." A pause.

"So."

"Oh, yeah," she says. "If we go down this alleyway we can go through the parking garage, and that'll take us behind a building that connects to mine."

"Okay. I'm driving, you keep guard." We set out. I push the wheelbarrow and Sissy walks a few steps ahead, looking around corners and watching for danger.

This might end up being the dumbest thing I've ever done.

On a similar note, it might not.

Eventually, Sissy and I have laid the Jedi on her bed, identified and bandaged all of his wounds, and wiped him clean of blood. He still has not woken up.


	5. Moving Day

The first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning is the Jedi. What the hell was he doing there? It's possible he came from the battle that was going on overhead, but if he crashed then how the hell was he still alive when we found him?

I dress and grab my bag. I'm going to Sissy's, first thing.

The walk to Sissy's takes about ten minutes, if you take the scenic route. By "scenic" I mean that you go through the marketplace, which is full of generally eccentric people. The best part is Mr. Grooplo, who sells amulets and "magical potions" to a wide array of paranoid schizophrenics, small children, and suckers. That's the way things are done on Sorenno. It's a fear-based society, especially since the Vasdyvin showed up.

The marketplace isn't nearly as energetic as usual, probably because all activities are watched closely by soldiers in grey uniforms. They have their blasters at the ready. Militaristic assholes.

I'm angry about the whole situation by the time I reach Sissy's door, which I open without knocking.

"Hey, Sis." I stop, seeing that she isn't alone.

"Bella, old girl!" Hyjo booms, raising a hand in greeting. I smile weakly and glance at Sissy, who is sitting next to him at the kitchen table. I wonder if Hyjo knows about the Jedi; the look on Sissy's face tells me that he doesn't.

"Hi, Hyjo… What." I am stopped mid-sentence by a bone-crushing force that hits my knees, almost sending me flying.

"Bell-UH!" I smile at the top of Sedvii's head and pick him up, kissing him on the forehead and carrying him over to the table. I set him on my knee when I sit down.

"What's going on, Hyjo?"

"I was telling Little Sister here about the trouble the police gave me last night!" he says, taking a hearty gulp of coffee. My eyes widen.

"What?"

"Yep! Ahh." He smacks his lips and pats his belly. "The Greybacks came in a little while after you left, asking about a Jedi. Says a Jedi Starfighter landed in the street in front of the bar. Blood in the cockpit, no Jedi to be found. I told 'em I didn't know nothing about it, and they argued a bit. Says they could arrest me what for withholding info or some shit like that. I dunno."

I try to remain expressionless, choosing instead to look at Sedvii, who is sucking on a piece of my hair. I pull it out of his mouth as I nod thoughtfully.

"Huh. You don't say." Hyjo smacks the table with his three-fingered hand.

"But I do, Bellabell. They came in wanting to search all the customers and the dressing room, the office and everything. They even looked under the bar. They're serious about this. Not gonna have no Jedi running around while they're here. Not that any Jedi couldn't defend himself against those thugs. Jedi are tough bitches. They know what they're doing, how to take care of 'emselves. Start learnin' how when they're babies, no bigger than lil' Sed over there. Yeah, we're in good hands what with the Jedi on our side. Vasdyvin don't gotta chance, no ma'am. Hate to think what they'da done to me if they'd found a Jedi there, though. Not a happy thought, baby." He gulps his coffee, and I look at Sissy. Her head is in her hands as she stares resolutely at the tabletop. Hyjo stands.

"Well, ladies. Gentleman," he inclines his head to Sedvii. "I gotta go. Got a bit of shoppin' to do. Thanks for the hosp'tally, Little Sister." He leaves. Sissy and I are silent for a minute.

"Has he woken up yet?" I ask. Sissy shakes her head.

"Big man sleepy lot, Bell! He night-night!" Sedvii whispers solemnly. He jumps off my lap and runs to a small pile of toys across the room, instantly occupied. Sissy stares at him.

"I don't want that Jedi here."

"What?"

"Not in my house, Bella. I mean, we can't let the police get him, but I can't have him here. If they find him they'll kill me, and. Well. My baby." She's still looking at Sedvii, and I know what she means.

When she dies, he becomes independent. Which I know all too well.

"Okay. I get it. But how do we get him to my house? It's broad daylight, girl." She shakes her head.

"I have no idea. I don't think the wheelbarrow thing is gonna work at this time of day."

I stand up and walk to the window overlooking the street, pulling my hands through my hair. What the fuck are we gonna do?

All the people outside go about their business as usual, trying not to spare a glance for the watchful soldiers around them. Some men are loading boxes into a Muuv-It truck. A little girl, homeless, sits alone on the sidewalk, staring at the ground. A woman in a bathrobe is tossing trash onto her stoop. She pushes an empty refrigerator box through the door.

"That's a big box," I say. Sissy looks at me.

"What?"

"I have an idea. Stay here." I run out the door despite Sissy's complaints and leave the building. I cross the street as the robe-clad woman is tossing a trash bag onto the steps.

"Uh, ma'am? Excuse me!" I call up to her. She turns to look at me. She's pissed, quite possibly because of the kids I can hear screaming and laughing inside the house.

"What do you want?"

"Do you need that box there? The big one?" She looks where I'm pointing.

"Why the hell would I put it out with the trash if I needed it? Hey!" She turns and runs back inside upon hearing the sound of breaking glass. I wrap my arms around the box and drag it across the street, into Sissy's building, and into the kitchen. Sissy is standing by the window, staring at me.

"What are you doing?" she asks fearfully.

"We'll put him in here. I'm not kidding."

"We're putting the Jedi in a cardboard box?"

"It's a big box, Sis. He'll fit." She walks over and looks in the box.

"How are we gonna get him to your house? We can't just lift him, how are we gonna get the box off the ground? Bella, I don't think."

"Trust me, Sissy, just trust me." I drag the box into her bedroom, to where the Jedi is still unconscious. "Okay, I'm gonna hold the box at the end of the bed, and you just. Uhm. Kind of lift his legs, okay, and I'll slide the box under him." Sissy just stares at me. "Sissy, come on!"

She sighs and walks over, following my instructions. By sliding the box under him little by little we're able to get his whole body into it. Sissy stands back and puts her hands on her hips.

"Now what?"

"Get some packing tape," I say. She gasps.

"No, Bella, no! We are not going to send him in the mail! I'm not doing this, this is a bad idea, no."

"For the love of god, Sissy, we're not gonna send him in the mail. He won't be in there long. Now get me some packing tape." Sissy whimpers and looks like she wants to complain, but does as I say. We tape up the box.

"Should we poke some holes in it?" she asks. I laugh.

"Go ahead, but make them small. I'll be right back." I run outside once again.

The men with the moving truck are finished packing the boxes and are heading for the cab. I call to them and they turn around.

"Hey, lady, whatcha need?" I smile sweetly and tilt my head to one side.

"I need a little help with something…. See, I need to get a big box home but I don't have a truck or anything. I was wondering if you could load it up and take it by my house for me…." They look at each other and seem to come to a decision.

"Look, we're running a little late."

"I'll pay you! I really need that box home. Like, now." They look at each other again. The shorter one shrugs a little.

"Okay, but we need to do this quick." I grin and run back into the building, the movers following behind me. I find Sissy still in the bedroom, and she gasps when the men come in.

"Bella! What are." I shut her up with my eyes.

"Wow. That's a pretty big box," the taller guy says. I scratch the back of my head and put one hand on my hip in a classic "cute girl in distress" pose.

"Yeah, it is. That's why I really needed your help." I smile and look through my eyelashes at them. They seem a little more willing now, and they get on either end of the box, starting to lift it. It's heavy.

"Jeez, lady. What the hell you got in this box?"

I pause.

"A secret." The guys laugh.

"This is one hell of a secret you got here. A three-hundred pound secret."

"It's really fragile, though, so keep it with that side facing up. Don't jostle it!" The shorter one shakes his head and slowly guides the box out to the truck.

I try not to imagine what the Jedi would do if he wakes up before we get the box to my house. Instead, I get into the cab between the movers and direct them to my apartment, where they heave the box up two flights of stairs.

"Thanks, boys. Just put it on the bed." I give each of them twenty gufhmas, and they bid me goodbye. Not until I hear them making their way down the stairs do I cut the box open.

Still unconscious, and unscathed by the journey. Thank god.


	6. Psycho ExBoyfriend

After several minutes of arranging pillows and blankets, I sit cross-legged on the bed next to the Jedi, considering what to do next. It worries me that he still has not woken up; still, there's nothing more for me to do for him. Instead, I decide to find out a little more about him.

Carefully, I remove his utility belt. It carries his lightsaber, which I unclip from the belt and hold into the light. It's actually quite beautiful. Wondering what the blade would look like, I am tempted to activate it.

Bad idea, Bella.

I lay it on the bed next to me and open one of the pouches attached to the belt. A holocom, for communicating with his fellow Jedi. I set that aside. The last thing inside is small amount of money. I put the holocom back and open the next pouch, in which I find a first aid kit along with several unrecognizable objects. I frown and open the next pouch, which spills crumbs onto my bedspread. Dog biscuits? I look at the Jedi's face. Dog biscuits. I laugh silently and close the pouch.

Inside the next pouch I find an identification card. The Jedi Master, namely, Qui-Gon Jinn, is six feet four inches tall and human. He does not have an apprentice and is ten standard years older than I am. He has blue eyes and brown hair. How adorable. I replace his ID card in the pouch and lay the belt next to the lightsaber.

Why don't you wake up, Qui-Gon?

I lie down next to him and look at the side of his face. His skin looks weathered, much too old to be in his early thirties. I suppose that's the nature of being a Jedi, though. You have to be able to take a beating. I smile, pick up a lock of his hair, and begin to braid it.

Later, as I leave work, I open the door onto the alleyway and step out, pulling my jacket tighter around me. I pull out a pack of cigarettes as the door closes behind me, and a huge weight hits me in the back. I go down.

I land on my stomach as my bag (with my gun inside) is wrenched out of my hands, and someone turns me over onto my back. It's Jam, and he has a blaster in my face.

Not a revolver, like the one I might have pulled out of my bag. Revolvers have bullets that can be removed. Blasters, on the other hand, do just as much damage without any sort of evidence as to who the hell had a problem with you in the first place. Blasters are much quicker. Blasters are much scarier. And when your psycho ex-boyfriend puts one in your face, it's not an encouraging thing to have happen to you.

"Bella. Little Belayaro. I'm done fucking around with you. I tell you they found Tommy-boy and what do you do? You put a gun in my face. I don't like that." Jam takes a long drag on his Huurmol cigar and blows a smoke ring.

I spent about two years riding the back of Jam's bike, being rewarded for the time I spent as his arm-candy with protection and a place to live. Jam used me as part of his status over other thugs: not just anybody could get a smooth-talking, blue-eyed, red-headed bombshell to stick around for so long.

"_Hey, Kartos. You better watch out if you're gonna fuck with one of Jam's friends."_

"_Jam? Ah, shit. Is he the guy with the motorcycle and that ginger babe that follows him around all the time?"_

"_Yeah!" _

"_Hell, man. I'm not fucking with him." _

My parting with Jam came when I was sixteen. This is about the same time I realized I was dealing with a complete sociopath.

We were in somebody's basement. Jam was sitting at one end of a moth-bitten couch, and I was cradled next to him. He ignored me, but liked to have me there for everyone else to look at. He was discussing "Tommy-boy", some burn-out who owed him a lot of money and who was planning on skipping town, so said one of Jam's faithful sources. Jam was pissed, and the hand that wasn't firmly planted on my hip held a beer that he gulped every once in a while to add punctuation to his anger.

"So, it's like this: Tommy-boy's gonna be waiting at home for somebody to bring him a bus ticket, cause that's how he's leaving, right? He's waiting for a lady named Ulaa, and he's all packed, right? He's gonna be at home when we finally nail this son of a bitch. So. Bella, here."

I looked up from the cigarette I had lazily been playing with to glare at the side of his face. He's gonna kill somebody and he wants me to help him? He wants me to fucking help him?

"She's gonna put on a wig. She can borrow one of those great blond ones from Yrapshh's girl. She's gonna put on a wig for a disguise and hitchhike over to Tommy's house, and we're gonna be waiting downstairs. Got it? She's gonna go up, talk him up a little, playing the part of Ulaa, and when he goes to get her money she's gonna shoot him. We come up to clean up the mess and get her out of there, and we can take Tommy-boy down to Ralluo to that quarry they got down there. Anyway."

"Jam." He looked at me, as if surprised I actually had a voice. Everyone else looked at me, too. "I'm not killing anybody, Jam."

"This is a piece of shit that owes me money, Bella. We gotta kill him."

"I don't care what he did, Jam. I'm not gonna kill him." I stared him straight in the eyes, and he didn't really know what to do. How often is it that a girl stands up to him?

"I'm not giving you a choice, bitch!" He sat up straighter and took his hand off my waist, instead grabbing the back of my neck. Like I was a kitten or something. I stood up, looking down at him.

"I don't care what you want me to do. You don't have any fucking authority over me, Jam! I'm not putting on a blond wig and hitchhiking over to where I'm gonna shoot somebody. That's a completely ridiculous plan in the first place, and I can't kill anybody. You shouldn't be able to kill anyone either!" He stood up, towering over me. He grabbed my face.

"After all I've done for you, Bella. If I hadn't taken you in you would be living on the streets. You'd be nothing. You'd have nothing. You'd."

"I would be a much better person for having never known you, Jam," I said, realizing at that moment that I didn't want to be the kind of person who could sit back and see that kind of shit going on around me. I had to get out. "Don't fucking touch me." On the first syllable in "fucking," Jam felt something prod him in the stomach. I had pulled out my gun, a fact he noticed when he looked down to see what it was. He took his hand off my face and I backed away from him, toward the door.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Bella. If you talk to the cops."

"I'm not gonna talk to the cops, Jam. I never even want to think about you again." I turned and ran out of the basement, thinking that he was wrong. Thinking that I had really escaped him.

I was wrong.

Now I have a blaster in my face, and I'm thinking about how wrong I was.

"I'm not gonna talk to the cops, Jam. I'm not stupid. I'm not. Get your fucking gun out of my face, Jam."

"You're dead, Bella. After the hell I went through trying to find you, getting someone to fill your place. You're dead." He looks down at me, his face screwed up in anger. My psycho ex-boyfriend. My eyes are drawn away from his as a dark green, three-fingered hand wraps around his neck. All of the color drains from his face, and I smile.

Hyjo's other hand grabs Jam by the wrist and forces the blaster out of his hand. Turning Jam to face him, he growls.

"Get off my property." With a gigantic heave, he throws Jam into the wall across the alleyway, and pulls me back inside, slamming the door behind us.

"Thank you, Hyjo!" I throw my arms around his neck and hug him fiercely, kissing him on his bristly cheek. He growls again and looks me over.

"You alright? Who the hell was that?" I bite my lip.

"You remember that psycho ex-boyfriend I told you about?"

Twenty minutes later, I am unlocking my apartment door. Hyjo had insisted that I be escorted home by one of the bouncers, so Lurfranko "Frankie" Hossmo watches me fiddle with the keys. He leaves only after I am safely inside. Throwing down my keys and my purse, I go into the bedroom to change. I glance at my bed and freeze.

The Jedi is gone.


	7. He Returns

"Behave yourself, baby! I love you!"

I wait at the bottom of the stoop as Sissy passes Sedvii to his babysitter. I watch her trot down the steps and smile anxiously to him when she reaches the bottom. The door closes, and Sissy looks at it for a moment.

Moms are so cute, the way they always think their kids are in mortal danger when they aren't home. I don't think I'm ever going to have kids, though. Not me, I think as I sip my cigarette. I'm not the "mom" type.

Sissy and I continue the walk to Showstoppers. On the way to the babysitter's I told Sissy about the Jedi's disappearance, and she was completely mystified.

"I mean, he was hurt, right? Why would he leave if he knew you were gonna take care of him?" Not really the issue I was thinking of, but nice try, Sissy. I was thinking more along the lines of "Where the Hell is he now?"

Now Sissy is filling me in on her news.

"I met this really nice guy yesterday, and we talked for a while…. He's really hot, Bella. I mean really hot. And he thought I was pretty! Isn't that adorable?" I smile at her. Thank God; someone has appeared to get her mind off of her dead soldier boyfriend.

"What's his name?"

"Kinsu Solo," she says, "and he's got a bakery off on Ninth. Isn't that cute? He's a baker!"

"So…." I say, raising my eyebrows at her. She stares.

"So what?"

"So did you give him your number?" I demand. Her face falls.

"Of course not. I told him I was taken." She hitches her purse higher on her shoulder and shrugs. I sigh.

"Sissy…."

"What? When Sedvii's daddy comes back I want to be able to say I was entirely faithful to him. We are engaged, Bella!" Looking at me as if this was an obvious conclusion, she smiles cheerfully. "I can wait for him. I told him I would."

We reach the door to the dressing room, and I decide not to argue the point.

Later, I am leaning against the bar, delicately turning my hips out to attract a customer. The things I do for money…. A muscular guy I've never seen before puts an arm around my waste, tucking a couple bills into my cleavage. I glance up at him and smile coyly.

"Let's go sit down somewhere," I purr, and he leers at me. I almost shudder.

I take him by the hand anyway and guide him to an empty table, sitting him down and straddling his lap. He laces his fingers behind my back and I run my hand down his thick neck.

"You're a pretty big guy, aren't you? A real man…." He grins, obviously very affected by this compliment. He leans forward and whispers huskily.

"Let me tell you about what a real man does, baby. I'm pretty tough, you see." I giggle, rubbing his chest and arching my back. "I'm real big authority around here. There's nobody that doesn't answer to me sometimes. Like I said. I'm pretty tough." My eyes widen and the simpering smile drops off my face. Authority? I glance down at his grey jacket, and a golden insignia jumps out at me.

He's a police officer. A Vasdyvin. I freeze, staring at the ear next to my face. He doesn't notice anything, and keeps talking.

"Just the other day. Crazy old guy had neighbors saying that he was against the new authorities. We went over to search his house, question him, routine shit. We get there and kick in the door. Guy's in the bathroom, pouring some food for his cat. Some of the guys trash the place, and I'm in charge of interrogation. We grab the cat and get the guy in the bedroom. Start asking him questions. He's not answering."

"I have to go," I say tersely. I do not want to hear anything this sick fuck has to say. I start to stand, but his hands on my back keep me in place.

"Hey, I'm gonna get my money's worth, here!"

"Not with me, buddy." I push on his chest, trying to break his grip on my back. No good; he pulls me closer to him and puts one hand on my neck, squeezing slightly.

"You're gonna listen to this, bitch." My breathing is shallow and strained from a combination of rage, terror, and pressure on the throat. "My guys hold him down on the bed, and I got the cat. I've got the little fucker tucked under my arm and his claws aren't doing shit to my armor. I take one of his legs and snap it like a pencil. He screams, the guy is screaming to leave the cat alone. So we ask him again. He's not talking. So I start twisting this cat's broken leg piece, twisting it up till it looks like furry sausage links. Furry stripey sausage links. Funny shit, huh?" I choke out a couple words.

"Sick. Freak." I try to hit him in the face and he catches my hand.

"Little whore fights, does she? I'm gonna like that, later." I start struggling freely, trying to get the hell away from this crazy bastard. The same kind of crazy bastard that killed my dad. My dad, the composer, dead because of sick people like this….

"Let her go," commands a calm, deep voice.

I stop fighting and try to look behind me, but I can't see much. Just another big, muscular guy.

"Who the fuck are you?" Vasdyvin Freak says, frowning. Big Guy behind me doesn't answer, but now Vasdyvin Freak has a huge hand in his face, not even touching him. But he chokes anyway, letting go of me to scrabble his fingers against his neck. I get off his lap and hit the floor, and Freak gets his breath back at the same time. He starts to get up, wanting to fight, but then Big Guy waves his hand in front of him.

"You do not want to fight me." Freak stops, staring at him.

"I do not want to fight you." Big Guy waves his hand again.

"You will leave this young lady alone."

"I will leave that young lady alone."

"You will forget my face."

"I will forget your face."

"You will go home and reconsider your morals."

"I will go home and reconsider my morals." And the Freak leaves. Just like that. I watch him go, amazed, and then look back up at Big Guy. I gasp.

The Jedi (what was his name?) is holding his hand down to me. No longer in his Jedi robes, he is dressed like a homeless guy. He pulls me to my feet.

"Are you alright?" he asks, looking concernedly at my neck. My mouth is hanging open.

A Jedi. Just saved my life. With his crazy magic tricks. Oh. My. God.

"You – Jedi…." He places a finger to his lips, smiling.

"I'll take that as a yes. How about a drink? I certainly need one. I'll treat you, for all that you did while I was unconscious. Come on." He gives me a good-natured slap on the shoulder and heads for the bar.


End file.
